A Change in Perspective
by RhinestoneEmpire
Summary: A whumpmance - that's a word now, I swear - between 2D and Murdoc. Set sometime after Rhinestone Eyes, and littered with random canon. Written for my Rainbow King, as a birthday present!


BIRTHDAY FANFICTION OF AWESOME THAT I _WOULD_ NAME, BUT IT'D END UP REALLY CHEESY

2D flipped over the television remote in his hands, staring at it in the vain hope that it would get the message and start working again. The TV had been stuck on some stupid shopping channel for about an hour now, and he was really starting to get annoyed with the sound of the countdown music. Sounded_ way_ too much like the shows his Grandma used to watch.

He looked up at the screen, his eyes tired. He_ could_ get up, yes, but every time he tried he just flopped right back down onto the sofa. A bit like a limp fish, he imagined, except that fishes don't usually take so much migraine medication that they lose the will to move.

The woman on the TV announced that there was to be another sale, and the music started again. 2D groaned and rolled over onto his back, staring up at the stained ceiling. His arm flopped over the side uncomfortably, but bleariness prevented him from doing anything about it.

The weather didn't help either. Plastic Beach had been experiencing a heat wave of sorts; a wave so heated that even the Superfast Jellyfish that inhabited the bay were doing more lolling than swimming. Noodle was in her room, fanning herself by the AC and watching _The Ring_, and 2D didn't have the energy – or heart – to disturb her. She'd spent more than enough time being mollycoddled by the group after her reappearance – she needed a rest.

Russell might have been a better bet for channel-changing assistance, but he was currently too big in stature to _get into the room_, let alone press buttons on the TV. Besides, he was entertaining the whale, and anything that got the damn thing away from 2D was, in 2D's opinion, to important to disturb. Murdoc… Murdoc was on a boat somewhere. He'd left that morning, clutching an armful of whiskey bottles and demanding that 'the eels be melted'. 2D suspected that he was off trying to kill all the eels in the bay, because – now all the musical collaborators had left the island – Mudds didn't have much else to do but melt the faces of aquatic animals.

2D thought about Murdoc. The man had been acting strange, that was true – ever since they'd been evicted from 'The G-Spot' (Murdoc's name for their temporary London residence, which had become the generally recognised name fairly quickly) he'd been acting weirder than usual. Windmill Island was almost finished, their newest album was completed, and they'd found the real Noodle; 2D could understand why Murdoc would be bored, but was fairly sure that taking out your anger on sea creatures was a little… bizarre. Still, it was better than the alternative – if it wasn't for Russel's imposingly protective presence, 2D had no doubt that it would be_ himself _that was being melted. He always seemed to be the butt of Murdoc's anger. _That_, at least was constant.

As if thinking of Murdoc was some sort of summoning curse, a huge yell of distaste echoed up from the bay, followed by a series of expletives and the sound of a boat crashing into rocks. 2D bolted upright, his muscles suddenly stiffening in shock. A second later, he was on his legs, stumbling blindly towards the lift.

The beach was littered with wreckage when he got there. Murdoc was raging blue thunder about the boat being 'a useless piece of aquamarine shit' and trying to kick every piece of it he could find. He was ignoring the gash on his head, his dilated pupils focusing on everything_ but_ the blood dripping down his forehead. It was obvious he was on something; maybe he'd taken more of 2D's pills. The blue-haired boy wouldn't have been surprised.

"Calm da fuck down, Murdoc." Russell boomed, striding through the ocean towards them. "What did yo' _do_?"

Murdoc swore at him loudly, hurling abuse drunkenly across the water. Russell was a good few minutes away, and that meant Murdoc, being Murdoc, was going to keep raging simply because he _could_. 2D knew him all too well – his drunken side was especially childish.

Sighing, 2D gingerly padded across the sand, his bare feet clinging to spilt oil and sand. He was careful about his approach – even with facing the other way, the green-skinned man was too dangerous for words. Still, he kept creeping until he was right behind him, and reached out to touch his shoulder as a gesture of understanding.

"C'mon, Mudds. Let's go inside, awlright?"

Murdoc spun around, incensed. He smacked the blue-haired boy right across the face, viciously, and kneed him so hard in the stomach that he fell to his knees. He grabbed 2D's hair, pulling it back cruelly. 2D whimpered a little, feeling the burning pull on his scalp.

"You- don't _touch_ me, you effin' liddle _twerp_." He scowled, slurring his words slightly. "Look at you. You're almost _cryin_g. What's wrong, _Stuart_? You can't handle the heat, geddoff the bloody island!"

"I can't, yew stupid idiot! Yew've broken the sodding boat, ain't ya?" 2D snapped, regretting it almost immediately.

With a roar, Murdoc drew back his fist, and 2D shut his eyes tightly, waiting for the punch. His chest heaved with terror and adrenaline, making his breathing choked.

Russell grabbed Murdoc's shirt and yanked him away before he could swing. The infuriated bassist hollered and scratched, but the huge hand that clamped him restricted his movements. Nodding knowingly to the coughing 2D, Russell lifted Murdoc right up onto the roof of the studio and dropped him there, leaving him a beach parasol as shelter from the sun.

"T-Thanks, Rus." 2D choked as the giant leaned down next to him.

"It's ok, D. I can't just let the main wail on ya, y'dig?"

Two Dents looked up at the roof, where Murdoc was trampling around in a huff. He squinted at the burning sunlight.

"Will 'e be ok up there?" He asked, not sure how he felt about the situation.

"I don't care, D. Fucker can fry for all he wants." Russell looked down at him with a soft glance. "Ya can't let him get to ya, man. He's not good for yo'."

2D shrugged, repressing an urge to giggle. Sure, he wasn't _good _for him physically – but there was something about the bassist's presence that made 2D feel so content. Even when he was being slapped round the face with a converse.

"Imma serious, D. Don't go near him." Russell sighed, looking around with his white eyes. "I gotta take Noodle to the mainland, t' pick up her shit. Stay in the front room and make sure that his rank green self don't go anywhere _near _yo."

And with that, Russell retreated back into the ocean, circling around the island to pick up Noodle from her balcony. 2D watched them go, waving to Noodle's wide smile, and then trudged back to the main building, a threatening sense of being watched pressing into his neck. He drooped his head, timing his watch alarm for 45 minutes.

He'd wait that long for sobriety to kick in. He couldn't just _leave _Murdoc with that gash all day.

The pills were wearing off. 2D could make out the shapes of the pictures on the wall, and discern the numbers on the clock. He still couldn't be very bothered to get up from the sofa, though – he'd changed the channel before sitting down, and that was how it was going to stay. Even _if_ the channel in question was BBC News.

Just as his head began to slump into sleep, a shrill beeping from his watch jolted him awake. He threw his head back and gurgled in annoyance, then pulled himself off of the sofa. The floor hit him like a kick to the face, but he still managed to stand up and get into the lift.

The attic, as it was called, was a wide expanse of a room, attached to the top of the studio, with piles upon piles of dusty junk that had been chucked here in the cleanup. It was also the only room on Plastic Beach that still had bullet holes from the 'Rhinestone Eyes' incident, even in the window. However, the thing that made it important in this situation was the hatch that lead up to the roof.

As 2D got closer, he could hear the banging on the roof, from the – presumably overheated – Murdoc. He thought twice about opening the hatch, but when he thought about the wound, he flicked the lock.

"Yew can come down now, Mudds!" He called, and clutched the first aid kit nervously, wondering if he'd be allowed to _clean up_ the gash, at least.

Murdoc's tattered boots appeared, and the whole of his being soon followed. His skin was a little bit burnt by the sun, but other than that, he seemed to be fine – fairly coherent, in fact. He had removed his shirt, his contoured green chest glistening with salt, sweat and drops of his own blood. 2D found the sight indecently arousing.

"I- I brough' a First Aid Kit, so I can… err, fix yer head. If that's ok."

Murdoc gave him a condescending glance, and sat down on a wreck of boxes. He gestured for 2D to approach, and lit a cigarette. As 2D got closer, he noticed the way that Murdoc's ripped, stained jeans barely concealed the bassist's naval, and felt a blush creeping across his face. He averted his eyes and kneeled down in front of him, opening the kit clumsily.

With a wipe in his hand, he began to pat at the slash, gently exfoliating the crusts of blood around it. It'd mostly scabbed, but it still leaked a congealed bubble every now and then. His eyes, level with Murdoc's, scanned the rest of the bassist's face to check for other injuries. However, all he found himself doing was noting how much he wanted to touch every contour of the green skinned man's visage.

"…Are yew alright, Mudds?" 2D muttered, averting his eyes. He reached for a plaster, fumbling with his hands.

Murdoc looked right at him, with a face like a wasp-bitten child.

"What d' _you_ think, faceache?" He snarled, "My bloody boat's wrecked."

"W-we've still got Russell, righ'? If we need t' go t' the mainland, we can just…" He trailed off, seeing Murdoc's incredulous glare.

The bassist grabbed the front of 2D's shirt, and pulled him closer, an evil smirk curving his face.

"But Russell's not here, 2D."

"…Wha'?"

"Russell's. Not. _Here_."

Realisation dawned on 2D's face, burning his skin bright red. He shook his head, shrinking away until the top of his shirt cut into his neck.

"Mudds, no. No."

Murdoc ignored him, sliding off of the boxes and pinning 2D to the floor before the blue haired boy could even react. He arched his back and pressed his ear to 2D's chest, leering.

"Your heart's poundin', D. You can't tell me y' don't _want _me here."

He was right of course. 2D clasped his eyes tight shut and bit his lip, turning his head away. He didn't want that green skinned, Satanist bastard to see how desperate he was.

"Russell got in the _way_ last time I tried this, but he's not coming back 'till later. That means we got _all this time_ to waste, D." He leaned in closer to the singer's face, pulling it closer with one clawed hand.

2D's black eyes widened at the proximity. He could feel himself relaxing, his arms becoming content with their splayed position above his head. But his head kept whirring, spinning wildly about the possibilities of the situation.

"B-but, Mudds... I mean, yew're drunk, righ'? Yew can't fink strai't, can yew?"

"What's_ that_ got to do with anything?"

Sighing, 2D looked away. "I _know_ yew, Mudds. Y' don't wan' _me_. Yew just want somefink disposable t' fuck, don't yew?" His vision began to cloud with tears, though he didn't know why. It was always this way with Murdoc – though they'd never got _this _far before, 2D knew his place. Why should he expect to be wanted?

Murdoc's face fell unexpectedly. 2D had no idea why, but the bassist's sudden expression made him ache; his eyes looked so Goddamn _sad_.

Then, his manner changed completely – 2D felt his arms being grasped by one hand, and felt the other ripping at the material of his jeans. Murdoc growled intensely, as if he was frustrated by the complexity of the blue-haired boy's belt buckle.

The singer yelped as Murdoc's nails bit into him. A sudden urge to escape welled up in his chest, and he began to struggle. He _wanted_ Murdoc, which was certain. But not like this. Surely not like this. His legs stirred into action, flailing around uselessly. But the bassist was just too damn strong for him.

"Murdoc!" He cried out, desperately. "P-please!"

Murdoc grimaced as one of the singer's knees hit him in the back. He shook himself out of the pain and fixed his glare right at 2D's flustered face.

"You don't _understand _do you?"

2D shook his head urgently, snivelling a little as he tried to catch his breath.

"You _don't_ know me, D! You don't _understand_. _Do you_?!" Murdoc yelled, slumping his shoulders. "I want _you_. Not just for your bloody body, alright?! I-"

2D couldn't tell if it was the way that the green-skinned man was looking at him, or the way that his features were twisted in _very attractive_ aggravation, but he found himself smiling. His anxiousness was still there, but his fear was melting away with every second that passed.

"D'yew _mean_ it?" He found himself saying, his heart pounding almost painfully in his chest.

Murdoc took a moment to think, and then brought his head right in close to 2D's. They looked right into each other's eyes, studying every twitch and movement.

"Yeah. Yeah I do, faceache." Murdoc grinned, "I want _all of you_."

The bassist began to kiss 2D's long neck, sucking and biting it at equal measure. 2D let out a groan of contentment, as if he'd been waiting for this moment for forever. The idea of getting a hickey from Murdoc was enough to make him restless.

Keeping his grip on 2D's arms, Murdoc reached his free hand up the singer's shirt and began to stroke at the flesh underneath. As he worked he got more forceful, his nails digging into the singer's body, bruises blossoming in their wake. 2D moaned and twisted, unable to comprehend how good this felt; he hadn't even known that the noises he was making were _human_.

Instinctively, 2D began to grind his hips against Murdoc, panting heavily, impatiently. The bassist responded in kind, beginning to flex even as he bit down on 2D's pale skin. Their breaths were deep and rapid, their erections clashing as they pushed against each other. Murdoc gripped tightly onto 2D's back, leaving red welts where his nails had pressed.

With a definite motion, Murdoc reached his hand out of the singer's shirt, and tore 2D's belt right off without any hint of subtlety. 2D didn't care much anymore about his trousers, and kicked them off, locking eyes with his bandmate as he heaved in breaths. There was a mutual agreement in their eyes, an excitement that lay in their expressions.

"Mudds…"2D began, breathlessly. "Um… I..."

Murdoc gave him a questioning look, eager to continue.

"Could yew, um, please be… careful? I've n'ver- n'ver done this before. With a man."

Murdoc smirked, in an almost demonic way, and narrowed his eyes. 2D wondered if he'd said something he shouldn't have.

"Don't worry, D; I _know_ you. You'll_ like_ it rough."

2D's eyes widened. He began to quiver as Murdoc ran one of his claws down his stomach, almost tickling him. He could feel the urge to act, the pressure to be satisfied building up between his legs. Murdoc could feel it too, and made full use of it.

It felt a little like being hit with a train, 2D soon decided. The feeling hit him so suddenly, the alien presence in his body burning intensely. He bit his lip, scrunched his eyes together with such force that he was sure he'd never see again. He could feel the bassist's keen eyes watching his every move; despite himself, the singer found himself moaning.

Murdoc began to thrust, sweat beading on his forehead. His motions became instinctive, primeval with each pant. The look on 2D's face – that shocked, pleasured, disgusted look – was such a turn on that he couldn't help it. He pushed harder, faster. He growled louder, panted quicker. Every second blurred into another, melding even as they did.

2D whimpered a little at the onslaught. His cheeks were flushed blood red with embarrassment and lust, but he put up little resistance. He was moving _with_ the rhythm now, joining in with this horribly degrading, sinfully lovely act. His skin ached to be touched, his bruises crying out in their bittersweet pleasure.

Time no longer existed, even as they grimaced and writhed and moaned. They could both feel a release approaching, a moment of tense silence suddenly grasping their lungs. There was concentration, emerging suddenly from previous abandonment. All focus was on the feeling, the shivering rush. They came together, for the first time, and their sound filled the room.

Three hours later, Russell returned from the mainland, striding through the ocean with ease. Noodle had with her three big boxes, all full of trinkets from her adventures. Russell had offered to carry them onto Plastic Beach, but Noodle was far too aware of his manhandling ways, especially when it came to her (stolen) priceless Ming vases.

Murdoc was happy to help her carry them in. Russell was incredibly suspicious of the bassist's sudden smugness, but Noodle was happy to accept his help – _and_ his fatherly cuddles, which she'd been missing dearly. He smelt of water, she noted, but shrugged it off. Even Murdoc had to clean himself sometimes.

When Russell found 2D, the singer denied all suspicion of abuse, tugging at the long sleaves of his top and giving a lopsided grin. He insisted that Murdoc had been no trouble at all; he hadn't even been off of the roof for long, honest. Russell didn't believe him, but what could he do? As far as he knew all was well, and he could go back to hunting down those damn whales.

As Russell strode off, Murdoc and 2D shared a look – a look free from their past spite, and surprisingly… _inviting_. Even as he ruffled Noodle's hair, Murdoc couldn't help grinning a little at the singer, as if their secret were some kind of scandal. 2D shrugged it off, but inside he smiled at the fact that if Murdoc had his way, the boy wouldn't walk for the next four weeks.

To tell the truth, he was kinda looking forward to it.


End file.
